Gilead

I just finished reading Marilynne Robinson's "Gilead". I cried at its end, not for its end, nor because it was sad. It was beautiful. I sat there on the toilet reading until my legs were asleep to finish, a ridiculous place to experience beauty that would make one weep.

The book is no master piece of poetry, no epic, not the brash offspring of sharp wit or forceful essay of vast intellect. I would not call the story or its players particularly memorable. No surprising twists. No strange quirks. No gimmicks. No cliffhangers or breathtakers. The landscape is plain, with residents to match. The story moves slow, even sluggishly along. If anything in it is foreign or new to me, it is the age of John Ames. But that, too, is not unusual, only outside my experience to date.

There is no escapism or novelty to grab interest in this novel. I can think of little to recommend it to you, except perhaps to say that it moves me. Its town is blessed in the end by the old man, "To me it seems rather Christlike to be as unadorned as this place is, as little regarded." As the town is to him, the like-named book is to me, a clear yet gentle echo of real beauty, humble enough to be thoroughly human. The very bones of it are composed of grace, the muscle faith, the skin a little regarded, dying man.

If you read it, do not be afraid to take a long time and let it sink in slowly. As one reviewer on the back of this library copy says, it is "a book to be savored." It is rich food, best not gulped down in a hurry.

the beauty of creating

i received an encouraging email today.
from a woman who was encouraged by the words on my website.
in response, i shared that i, too, am often encouraged by the words,
even those that are my own.
that is the beauty of creating, in whatever form:
it sets something beyond yourself that can give unto to others
and even back to you.
what a delightful thought then,
to think of how God,
the Creator,
might be encouraged and blessed by His creations...
including us.
He has set something beyond Himself
that can give to others
and to Himself.
sixpence none the richer, indeed!
the economy of God is truly strange and beautiful.
i am grateful to be made in the Imago Dei,
with the power to create.

there are better things

today is beautiful. the sky is blue. the air is cool and crisp. the sunrise was inspired.
i sit in a cubicle today. i work at a computer. i write words few will read. i am uninspired.
there are better things in this life.
she is sleeping. she is beautiful. she breaks my heart. she is inspiration.
there are better things in this life.
it is the little things that get to me.
the little squeaky noises she makes when she stretches, yawning and tired.
the inflection of her happy greeting.
the stray brown curls above her ears that defy her control.
her smile. her compassion. her laugh.
her eyes break me.
are there better things in this life?
my mind says yes. the rest of me weeps in defiance.
could i love another so?
perhaps.
i have never felt this way before.
who am i to declare such a thing eternal?
but i would.
give me a crown and call me the king of fools, i would.
it wouldn't be my first mistake.
i insist it would not be my last.
there are better things in this life.
and beyond.
the flesh is temporary. emotion is fleeting.
lust is a drug. its promises are vicious lies.
infatuation is fuel. it burns hot and fades. it will always fade.
but oh, the heat!
love is...
...a decision.
love is the movement.
my love, say the word and i will move.
my Lord, say the word and i will leave it all.
but the silence is my agony.
here is my unrepentant desire.
i am the deaf boy.
and still i listen to the voices of the blind men.
i long for music. i crave her smile.
i crave her smile.
there are better things.